


Brendon Loves Puppies (But Not Like That)

by roebling



Series: Unfinished and Things that are Otherwise Not Fic [3]
Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Not!Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon loves dogs and tries to get Spencer to sign his petition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brendon Loves Puppies (But Not Like That)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estei/gifts).



> Relentlessly cheerful not!fic that I wrote for estei <3 It's sort of doofy, but I hope it brings at least one smile to your face.

Spencer leaves his house at seven thirty every morning, which, allowing ten extra minutes for traffic, gets him to his parking lot down town no later than eight. He's not due into work until nine, but it's a five minute walk from the parking lot to the high-rise where Spencer works, and he likes to stop at this little coffee shop on the way for a café au lait. Ryan started drinking them back in high school, as they lent him a bit more Continental flair than a 'frappuccino', and Spencer got hooked.

He hasn't talked to Ryan in a while. They're still friends, of course, but they fell out of regular contact after Ryan went off to study abroad in London his junior year of college and never came back. If Spencer finds time today, he'll shoot him an email or a Facebook message or something. Maybe.

Caffeinated beverage already in hand, Spencer's on target to be at work a good hour early. Even still, when the guy with the clipboard and the too-bright eyes standing in the middle of the sidewalk says, "Do you have a minute to help ...." Spencer mutters that he's running late and, tucking his shoulder, makes an evasive maneuver.

"Oh come on, dude," the clipboard guy says. "It's for a good cause, and it'll only take a minute. We're trying to get the city to put in a dog park in the empty lot on Main Street."

Spencer pauses mid-stride. Dogs are kind of his soft spot, even though they're a sore spot too, now.

"Fine," he says, "I'll sign. I'm a dog person."

"Awesome," the guy says. "My name is Brendon. I'm president of the Alliance for a Safer Pet Society." 

"ASPS?" Spencer asks, frowning.

"Dude, totally," Brendon says, grinning. "Originally it was the Civic Alliance for a Pet Friendly Community, but CAPFC is just nonsense. Anyway, just put your name and number and signature and stuff. Once I've got enough I'm going to go to the city council meeting to demand immediate action.

Taking the clipboard, Spencer can see that his signature will be the first. Ouch. He wonders how many signatures Brendon thinks will be enough. He writes his name, and his number, and he signs on the little dotted line.

"There you go," he says, handing the clipboard back.

"Awesome," Brendon says. "Thanks so much --" He glances down. " -- Spencer Smith. The dogs thank you too."

"No problem," Spencer mutters. He watches for a moment as Brendon tries to assail another pedestrian, who avoids him more successfully than Spencer had. Spencer shakes his head, and continues to work.

He's still a half an hour early, not that anybody notices.

Work is okay. Spencer is an actuary, but he not a cog in the machine of some huge health conglomerate. He works for a non-profit that provides low-cost or free counseling to small independent business owners. It doesn't pay as well as a job in the private sector would, but it's pretty cool to know that the percentage of small businesses in their area that provide health coverage to full time employees is twice the national average. 

Still, it's dry stuff. It's not like being an actuary was the job of Spencer's dreams. When he'd decided to go back to school to become an actuary, he thought Haley would be going to veterinary school, and he'd have to make enough to support them both until she was through. Haley is in veterinary school, as it turns out, but back home in Illinois.

Spencer hasn't talked to her in a year, not since she pressed the ring back into his hand and told him it wasn't working like it needed to work. They said they would still be friends, but Spencer isn't ready for that yet.

He's just getting home that night after going to the gym and stopping at the grocery store when his phone rings. The number is unfamiliar.

"Hello?" he asks, worried that something bad has happened to someone he loves.

"Hello? Is this -- Spencer Smith?"

"Yes," Spencer says, warily. "Who's speaking?"

"Oh, hey dude! It's Brendon. The dog guy from this morning."

"Oh," Spencer says. If this is a solicitation for money, he's gonna be pissed.

"What's up?" Brendon asks, conversationally.

"Um, nothing," Spencer says, glancing down at the grocery bag in his hand.

"Cool," Brendon says. "So, hey, you seemed pretty enthusiastic about the dog park proposal. I was wondering if you might want to help me collect signatures."

If Brendon thought Spencer seemed pretty enthusiastic, the rest of his day must have been pretty awful. 

"Uh," Spencer says. "I've gotta work tomorrow."

"Oh," Brendon says, disappointed. "Right. But how about this weekend? I've got to be honest with you -- ASPS is pretty much a one man project right now, and I'm looking for a trusty lieutenant. Your name is in the running. And hey -- this weekend I'm gonna be at Riverside Park. You can bring your dog to drum up sympathy. I'll have my Bogart there."

"I don't have a dog," Spencer says. Anymore. He doesn't have a dog anymore, because Haley took Milo and Boba. Spencer wasn't home enough to take care of them, she'd said. He'd agreed, but it had hurt.

"Oh dude," Brendon says. "Sorry. Sorry -- I should have asked. But uh, you could come anyway?"

Spencer's first impulse is to say no, just like his first impulse was to tell Brendon that he had no time to sign his petition, but honestly -- what are his plans for the weekend? He's got a book out from the library he'd like to finish reading, but he can do that any time. He wants to clean the winter's carpet of fallen leaves out of the back yard, but he can do that any time. Everything else -- errands to the dry cleaners and the bank and the farmer's market -- is routine and familiar and maddeningly dull.

"Sure," he says. "I could come anyway. What time?"

"Oh awesome," Brendon says. "Thank you so much, Spencer. This is gonna be such a good thing. And um, I wanted to get there pretty early to catch the morning joggers and stuff, so how about seven? By the gazebo thingy -- you know where I mean?"

Spencer does. "I'll see you there," he says.

"Totally," Brendon says. "Bring your persuasive shoes, Spencer Smith."

Laughing, Spencer says, "I will."

The rest of the week passes in a blur. They've got a client who's being difficult, and Spencer has to crunch the same data over and over again for the account manager who's working with them. It's stressful, but Spencer doesn't mind stress. He stays late and gets home later every night, but when he has downtime -- at night eating his dinner alone on the couch and catching up with the Daily Show -- he finds to his surprise he's not dreading this weekend's dog park petitioning at all. He's actually sort of looking forward to it. Huh.

It doesn't hurt that he wakes on Saturday morning and it's a stunningly perfect early Spring day. The weather's unseasonably warm, and Spencer figures he can get away with only a hoodie, rather than his heavy winter coat. He spends so much time dressing business casual for work -- button up shirts and cardigans and respectable slacks and khakis -- that he's always surprised at how much younger he looks in jeans and tee shirts and stuff. 

There's no traffic so early on a Saturday, so Spencer gets a really prime place to park. He stops and gets a coffee and muffin for breakfast, and on impulse, as the cashier is ringing up his purchase, gets the same for Brendon too. He doesn't see him at first when he gets to the gazebo, but he hears a dog barking and he looks up and Brendon's walking towards him, leash in hand.

"Hey!" he says brightly. "Sorry I'm late. Had to wait on a friend of mine for a ride." His dog -- Bogart -- is a Jack Russer Terrier, Spencer thinks. He puts his little paws on Spencer's shin and sniffs diffidently at first, but after a moment his stubby tail starts to wag. 

"I got you a coffee and a muffin," Spencer says. "Um, if you've eaten or whatever we can just ..."

"Oh no," Brendon says. "I haven't. Thanks, Spencer. That was super nice."

He takes the coffee and the muffin and they sit down on the steps of the gazebo and eat their breakfast while Bogart barks energetically at the passersby. 

"He's a very opinionated dog," Brendon says.

"I can tell," Spencer says.

They don't have great luck that day. Most people -- even people with dogs -- just really don't want to be bothered. One suspicious man questions Spencer for a good half an hour, implying that he's collecting sensitive personal information for resale to foreign agents or unscrupulous telemarketers.

"Uh, we're just trying to get a dog park built," he says. 

"A likely excuse," the man says darkly, before continuing on his way.

One he's out of earshot, Spencer looks over at Brendon, and they both burst into laughter.

At four o'clock Brendon decides that they should call it quits. Between the two of them, they've barely gotten three dozen signatures, but Brendon seems excited to have even that many.

"Oh, you're good," he says. "It would have taken me three days to get this many on my own."

Spencer shrugs. "It was nothing," he says. "Um, do you want to go grab some lunch or something?" He's feeling pretty hungry, and there's a good sandwich place nearby his office orders from sometime.

Brendon stammers, going red. "No, uh ... No. Thanks but I've got my friend coming to pick me up in fifteen minutes and dude, if I'm not here he's going to be so pissed. But maybe next time or something."

"Sure," Spencer says, a little confused. "Um, I'm busy during the week, like I said, but if you need help next weekend, just call me, okay?"

Brendon's consternation disappears. His smile is a pretty nice smile, Spencer thinks. "Cool. Thanks so much, dude."

Spencer goes to the sandwich shop and gets takeout. He eats it by himself, sitting on his couch watching television. The house seems too quiet, though. He wraps the second half of the sandwich for later and goes to see a movie -- the loudest, stupidest, most explosion-filled movie he can find.

Spencer fills up Sunday with errands and chores, and goes to bed early. He's happier for Monday morning and the start of the work week than he can remember being in a while. The crisis of the week before has been resolved, but things are always busy -- they're a non-profit, so they're constantly understaffed. Their office manager just left and Spencer's having to do things like order paper for the copier and re-negotiate their contract with their shitty ISP on top of his actual job. Still, every time he picks up his phone to check the time, he's disappointed to find that Brendon hasn't called. 

Brendon finally calls on Thursday evening.

"Hey," he says. "You might be busy and if you're busy it's totally cool to say so, but if you're not I think I'm going to collect signatures again this Sunday. Try my luck with the after-church crowd."

"I'm not busy," Spencer says. "I'll definitely be there."

"Oh," Brendon says. "Cool."

It's Spencer who's running late on Sunday, though. He forgot to set his alarm the night before, and he shows up at seven thirty, blinking and groggy. Brendon doesn't have his dog today; he's sitting on a park bench with his backpack beside him and his clipboard on his lap. His head is bowed; the park is crowded but nobody is paying him any attention. Spencer can't remember the last time he saw someone look so alone.

"Hey, Brendon," he says. "Sorry I'm so late."

Brendon looks up, and his expression of confusion turns to a smile when he sees Spencer.

"Hey Spence," he says. "I was beginning to think you weren't gonna show." 

"Nah," Spencer says. He can't remember the last time someone called him 'Spence'. Probably Haley, before she left, and god ... that was so long ago. "I'm good for my word. Besides, those dogs need somewhere safe to run around, right?"

"Yeah," Brendon says. "Hey, I bought you a bagel. As, you know -- thanks for last time and all. It's probably cold now, but this place makes awesome bagels."

Spencer takes the little paper bag and unwraps it. "Sesame," he says, pleased. "Definitely the best bagel variety."

"Dude, I totally agree," Brendon says. He holds his hand up for a high five and Spencer accommodates him.

He can't remember the last time he touched another person deliberately.

Things don't go that much better that day then they did the week before, but Brendon doesn't seem very discouraged. 

"Every signature is one more supporter of the cause," he says. 

Spencer isn't so sure, but he isn't going to rain on Brendon's parade. "What we made an online petition?" he suggests. "We could just hand out fliers with some information and people could sign online."

"That's a great idea. I knew there was a reason I picked you to be my lieutenant," Brendon says.

"Is your friend picking you up again today?" Spencer asks. "Because like ... if you want you could come over to my place and we could have a strategy meeting."

Brendon's eyes go a little wide, like he's surprised. "Really?"

"Sure," Spencer says. "I took a web design class in college. I might be able to remember enough to knock together a simple webpage."

"That would be incredible," Brendon says. "You're totally some kind of savant, aren't you, Spencer Smith?"

"Not really," Spencer says, shrugging. He was never the smart one growing up -- that was always Ryan. "I guess I'm just used to thinking about how to do things on the cheap -- because of my job or whatever."

"Dude, I thought maybe you were a lawyer or something," Brendon says. 

Spencer laughs and laughs. "Not quite," he says.

On the drive over to his place he tells Brendon about his job, about how he fell into it -- skating over Haley -- but how he's glad he's doing some good. Brendon reveals that he works at an organic vegan café over near the college, making juices and smoothies for undergrads on their free periods. He dismisses it at a silly, fruitless job, but it sounds pretty cool to Spencer. 

"Plus, it gives you the free time to work on ASPS," he says.

"Yeah," Brendon says. "Good point. It's not what I dreamed of doing, but it's not so bad."

"Believe me," Spencer says. "I don't even think I knew what an actuary was until I got to college. I wanted to be a rock star when I grew up."

"Really?" Brendon says, getting excited. "I love music -- I've been playing my whole life. I wanted to be in a band more than anything but ..."

"But what?" 

"Didn't work out, I guess," Brendon says, shrugging. "My parents were pretty down on the idea and I never found anyone who wanted to play with me long term after I moved out. I guess it's kind of a silly thing to dream of, anyway."

"I don't think so," Spencer says. "It's not silly, but just because things didn't work out the way you though they would doesn't mean they're bad."

Brendon glances over at him, quick, and then looks away. "No," he says. "You're right. It doesn't."

"Yeah," Brendon says. "I guess you're right."

They get the online petition made, but they don't get much further than that before Spencer decides they should order pizza. Spencer's prepared to defend his favored broccoli and olive pie the death, but Brendon readily agrees.

"Olives are the food of the gods," he says. "Literally, I think. This one girl I work with is a Classics major and apparently that's what they ate up on Mount Olympus. That and ambrosia, but dude, my mom used to make that when I was a kid and nothing with that many marshmallows can be good."

Spencer means for them to get back to planning after dinner, but the Transporter is on television, and Brendon's never seen it.

"You haven't lived," Spencer says honestly. "I refuse to do anything else for ASPS until you've seen this movie."

"Well I guess I can't refuse then," Brendon says, looking down at his folded hands. "I really need your help." 

It's nearly midnight by the time the movie's over. Brendon gets out his phone. "Hopefully Shane's not asleep," he says.

"Don't bother your friend," Spencer says. "I can give you a ride home." He bites his lip, hesitating. He's only known Brendon two weeks, but he likes him. It's been a while since Spencer's actually liked anyone. All the people at work -- that's just pleasant civility when he asks Steve about his daughter and talks to Helen about the local baseball team. He wants to know more about Brendon. "You could just crash here if you want, actually. I could drop you off on the way to work."

Brendon looks hesitant. "If you're sure I won't get in the way," he says. "I mean, Shane is probably asleep and I'd call a cab but they charge a fortune to come all the way out here -- not that you're out of the way or anything, dude."

"I am a little," Spencer says, laughing. "I couldn't afford anything but out of the way." Taking a deep breath, he continues. "Stay over. I'll go get some blankets and stuff."

"Can I borrow some sweats or something too?" Brendon asks. "I mean, if you've got extra ones. These are kind of not the best for sleeping."

"They're kind of tight," Spencer says. His mouth snaps shut as soon as he realizes the mortifying thing he just said. It's really not his fault though -- they are tight, and Brendon's got a really nice ass, and he hadn't meant to pay particular attention to it or anything but -- "I'm just gonna go get those blankets."

In his linen closet, he has a minor freakout. Spencer's always known in an abstract way that he's attracted to guys. The freakout isn't about that, although his practical experience in the area is limited to a few drunken flings his first year of college. He'd met Haley in a survey of western art class he'd taken to fulfill a general elective requirement the first semester of Sophomore year, and he'd never really looked back. He'd been curious, sometimes, but he figured what he had with Haley was rare enough and good enough and he'd never get that lucky twice. He sometimes couldn't believe he'd gotten that lucky one time.

Since Haley left, well ... he hasn't been looking. He hadn't thought he'd been looking, anyway, but his stupid brain must have subliminally betrayed him, because he's been paying attention to Brendon.

He grabs a stack of blankets off his shelf, and a pair of sweats and a tee shirt he got from work from his dresser and he goes back into the living room. Brendon's sitting quietly on the couch, and Spencer sets everything down at the other end. 

"Here you go," he says. "Uh, the bathroom's down the hall and if you're hungry or thirsty or whatever help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I get up at six thirty, but we probably don't need to be out of here for like an hour so I'll try keep quiet so you can sleep."

He's talking too much. Brendon's face is twisted into a little frown.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "This is really cool of you, Spencer. I know it's a total pain."

"It's really not," Spencer says. His cheeks heat again. "It's past my bedtime though, so I'm gonna turn in. Good night, Brendon."

"Night," Brendon says.

Spencer expects that he'll lay in bed freaking out for a while, but as it turns out, it is past his bed time and he is tired. He's asleep nearly right away.

In the morning, the tension is gone, melted in the might. Spencer is rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of sleepy, shirtless, rumple-haired Brendon yawning in his kitchen, but he recovers quickly enough. Brendon says very complimentary things about his pancakes, even though they're just Bisquick.

He drops Brendon off in front of a shabby looking row house in a not great part of town. 

"Thanks again," Brendon says. "Really. ASPS is gonna take the world of online dog park petitions by storm."

Spencer smiles. "Definitely," he says. "I'll see if I photocopy some fliers on the sly at work today."

"Awesome," Brendon says, and grinning, disappears into the house.

"I really, really like him," Spencer says to himself. "Wow." The feeling is unexpected and startling but not bad. He can't stop smiling, not even after he gets to work and sees a whole chain of completely annoying emails in his inbox about copier toner, of all things.

They start hanging out more often after that. Sometimes it's to work on ASPS -- Spencer breaks out his worn copy of 'CSS For Dummies' and cobbles together a not-entirely-amateur looking website. Brendon is way too impressed and tries to force Spencer to accept payment from ASPS' pitiful development fund (a kind old lady with four Pomeranians had given them a check for fifty dollars) before Spencer reminds him that as the official lieutenant he probably cannot accept remuneration. 

A lot of times, though, ASPS is barely a pretense to get together, or not even a pretense at all. Brendon works mostly the breakfast and lunch shift during the week and he sometimes meets Spencer after he gets out of work. They go to movies sometimes, and out to dinner at restaurants that Brendon recommends. Spencer tries Thai food for the first time, and Indian. Brendon always knows about concerts and art shows and stuff because they're advertized in the free weekly magazine they carry at the coffee house. He drags Spencer along to experimental performance art where, once memorably, a man and a woman dressed in full body leotards climbed wobbly stacks of chairs and danced on top -- until they fell off and landed jarringly on the unforgiving stage. Neither Brendon nor Spencer had understood the metaphor, but they'd both winced in sympathy.

And then there's the dogs. On the weekend mornings when they're not collecting signatures for ASPS ahead of the big quarterly city council meeting, they take Bogart and sometimes Brendon's friend Shane's greyhounds walking. Brendon volunteers once a month at a local shelter, playing with the dogs out in the yard; he takes Spencer with him once, and even though it's completely heartbreaking it's also gratifying seeing how glad the shelter dogs are for someone to love them, even for a few hours one sunny morning.

"I would adopt them all," Brendon says, "If I didn't live in an apartment the size of a large closet." 

Spencer is thinking about how his house was big enough for two dogs and two people, and now how all that space just goes unused. He hasn't even been in the bedroom upstairs in months. He has space.

"Maybe you'll win the lottery and you can buy a farm," he says instead. "You could adopt them all then."

"I don't even play the lottery," Brendon says. "I can dream though." 

It seems to Spencer sort of like they might be dating -- without all the fun kissing and beyond parts. He's not entirely sure because he never did much dating to begin with, and what little he did is now five years out of date. He's pretty sure he's not making it up in his head entirely. He's not making up the way Brendon sits right next to him on the couch, at least, nor the way that Brendon sometimes calls him at seven forty, just as he knows Spencer's getting on the high way to head to work, to say good morning and that he hopes Spencer doesn't have to threaten to kill anyone over disputed office supplies at work. He's certainly not making up the way Brendon makes him feel -- nervous in a good way, like his heart is beating a bit too fast, and glad all the time and for no reason.

Spencer remembers that feeling from with Haley, and that gives him pause. It still hurts so much -- it's like his whole life was severed in two when she left him. There's before Haley, and there's after Haley never the twain shall meet. He can barely even talk about her any more -- at least he can't the evening when the subject finally comes up with Brendon.

He'd taken down all the pictures when she'd left -- they were too visible a reminder, everything was too raw and painful. They were packed away in a box and put into the attic. He'd left just one -- his favorite of them. His face was pressed cheek to cheek with hers, and Boba and Milo's faces were squished beneath. They looked ridiculous and as happy as he could ever remember them being. 

He'd stuck that one in a frame and put it on a shelf in the living room. Haley'd taken her books when she left too, and he had space to fill.

"Who's this?" Brendon asks one evening. 

Spencer's in the kitchen making his world famous chili for dinner. They'd spent the morning at the park collecting signatures; the city council meets in two weeks and it's down to the wire. Between the online petition and the signatures they've collected in person they're up to a respectable seven hundred and thirty six (not that Spencer's been obsessively counting) but every last one helps their chances of being heard.

"Hmm?" He stirs the chili one last time and looks into the living room.

"Who is she, Spencer?" Brendon sounds a little funny. He's holding up the frame.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut. They've never really talked about relationships. Brendon's obliquely mentioned a few past boyfriends, but Spencer's been mum on the subject. It's just ... not his favorite. "She's Haley," he says at last. "Um. My fiancee."

"You're engaged?" Brendon's voice is harsh and flat.

"No, no," Spencer says, hurriedly. "My ex-fiancee. Sorry. It's just habit I guess, calling her that. She left me. A year ago -- longer than a year now, actually."

Brendon stares down at the picture, his brow creased.

"Remember I told you I didn't have a dog? I did ... I mean, I do, kind of. They're with Haley. I've got visitation rights but ..."

"Wow," Brendon says. "That really sucks. I'm sorry Spencer."

Spencer shrugs. "Don't be sorry. I guess things with Haley were bad for a while. I just thought if I couldn't make things work with her I'd never make them work with anyone, so I hung on for dear life."

Brendon sets the frame down. "You looked happy with her," he says.

"I was," Spencer says. "A lot of the time we were happy, for a while at least but that wasn't enough." 

Brendon sits down on the couch. The television is turned low. It's a cool windy night, and Spencer can hear the branches of the overgrown honeysuckle tree in the yard beat against the back windows. 

"I really like you, Spencer," Brendon says quietly. "I really, really like you."

"I like you too," Spencer says. He clears his throat. 

"I don't want to be some rebound or experiment or some opportunity for you to figure yourself out ..." Brendon's voice is still hard and tense.

Spencer cringes at the sound of it. "I don't need to be figured out," he says. "Not that way. I'm bi-sexual, Brendon. I've known that for a long time. Before Haley. It's the rest of the dating part I haven't got such a good grip on."

Brendon looks up and smiles, and Spencer feels like a weight lifts. "I think you've been doing okay so far," he says.

"I wondered if we were dating," Spencer says, in a rush. "I mean, it seemed like it but I didn't know if you were interested and I'm really awful at this stuff, Brendon."

"I'm not exactly Romeo myself," Brendon says. "I'm interested, Spencer. I really like you, like I said."

"I really like you too," Spencer says. "I'm not ... I'm not great at this stuff, Brendon. But I really like you and I want to try."

Brendon rolls his eyes. "That's enough for me," he says. He grabs Spencer's hand and pulls him down onto the couch. "Can we make out? Seriously, I've been thinking about it forever."

"Um, definitely," Spencer says. "I mean, I have too -- your mouth is kind of wow ..."

Any further odes to Brendon's mouth are unheard, because Brendon kisses Spencer then, one hand cupping his jaw, and as nice as Brendon's mouth looks it feels a lot better. Spencer drops the dish towel he's still holding and puts his hand on Brendon's waist and god, he's really, really missed this. 

They make out for a pretty long time, Spencer on his elbows above Brendon on the couch, too caught up in the sensation of it to be nervous. 

Then the forgotten chili starts to smoke and the fire alarm goes off and Spencer falls off the couch and bangs his elbow on the coffee table.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," he says, rubbing his elbow. "Shit."

Brendon practically vaults over the back of the couch. When Spence gets to the kitchen, still rubbing his elbow, he's put the pot of chili in the sink and is fanning pretty ineffectively at all the smoke with a piece of junk mail.

"We've gotta open the window," Spencer says. He leans over the sink and pushes up, wince as his elbow throbs. That helps a little, but the fire alarm is still going. He grabs the broom from the corner and whacks at it with more and more force until the casing snaps off and the batteries go flying. Spencer leans against the counter, cradling his arm and preparing an apology for Brendon. Because seriously. He is SO bad at this whole dating thing.

"Wow," Brendon says, totally sincere, "Dude, our making out was so hot we actually caught something on fire."

Spencer looks at him and they both start laughing.

They don't eat chili, and Spencer has to get a new smoke detector, but it's a pretty great evening anyway.

His worry that things are going to get weird now that they're officially dating never plays out. Brendon still calls him in the mornings, except now Brendon stays over a couple of times a night so sometimes there's no need. Those mornings are Spencer's favorites -- even though he hardly ever gets into work an hour early on those days. 

He worries that he's not being fair -- they spend almost all of their time either out or at Spencer's house -- so he tells Brendon that he wants to see his place, that they should spend the night there too. Brendon looks sort of worried. "We can," he says. "But Spence, you know I don't make big bucks. You've seen the outside -- the inside isn't much nicer."

"I don't care," Spencer says. "Come on, Brendon. I'm sure it's not that bad."

It's not ... that bad. Brendon has a tiny bedroom on the second floor of a townhouse that he shares with Shane, who's a grad student getting his MA in film at the college, and also Shane's cousin Ian, and a revolving cast of Ian's friends and associates. There's two bicycles and an old pin ball machine in the living room, and also two kids making out on the couch. Very energetically.

"Uh," Brendon says. "Let's just go upstairs."

Brendon's room is cluttered but tidy, and the dogs also live upstairs, so Spencer gets to see Bogart again and meet Shane's Indie. Brendon's bed is only a twin -- but when they're both in pajama pants and tee shirts and tucked under the blankets, it feels cozy rather than too small. 

"Sorry," Brendon says, when he accidentally jabs Spencer in the ribs with his elbow. "Sorry, Spence ... I told you this was a bad idea."

"Brendon, it's fine," Spencer says. "Calm down." He takes Brendon's hand and squeezes it and keeps hold. 

They cuddle and watch Best in Show on Brendon's laptop, setting it carefully down on the floor when movie-watching turns into making out. Spencer's hand is down Brendon's pants and his mouth is on Brendon's throat (he wants to give Brendon a hickey, so in the morning everyone can see) when he hears the door squeak open. Startled, he stills. There's the rasp of claws against the wood floors, and then a heavy weight settles at the end of the bed. 

Brendon's eyes are huge. Spencer carefully takes his hand out of Brendon's pants.

"Uh, did I mention the door doesn't really latch?" Brendon says. 

"No," Spencer says. "I can't get you off while your dog is in the room, Brendon."

"Oh god," Brendon says, and laughing he presses his face into Spencer's chest. "Stupid dog."

They don't stay over at Brendon's again.

The big city council meeting is coming up. They've got the signatures in order, and Spencer's outlined what he thinks are the most important talking points for Brendon to hit: building a dog park would promote a sense of community that could be parlayed into further civic engagement, the park would provide a safe place for dogs, promoting responsible pet ownership and keeping the streets cleaner, and if the city would just let them use the land, they'll fund raise all of the construction costs. Spencer takes off work specifically for the occasion. Brendon stays over the night before, and they both dress in suits and shirts and ties. Brendon's hair is slicked back and Spencer teases him gently about it, to try to get him to lighten up and smile. (Really he thinks Brendon looks HOT in the suit.) Brendon tries the smile, but it's weak and he's still a sort of unpleasant gray color. 

They're on the agenda for the meeting, slated to speak after someone who's trying to lobby to get a liquor license for a new club. Spencer fidgets while the guy goes on and on about how he'll ensure that he doesn't violate noise regulations and he'll bring a 'better class' of people to the area. Spencer kind of hates him, ugh, but he doesn't say anything snarky to Brendon because Brendon looks like he's about to hurl. Spencer just puts his hand on Brendon's knee and leaves it there until Mr. Nightclub Impresario is finished and it's Brendon's turn.

Spencer squeezes his leg and then lets go. Brendon gets up, forgets the paper with the outline of the important points and has to come back and grab. He's really pale. He clears his throat and begins.

"There are a lot of different kinds of love in the world, and a lot of unexpected places where you find it --" Spencer's heart skips a beat when he says that. "-- but the love between a person and their pet is pretty special. I'm here today to ask you to let us make a place where we can take care of those we love." 

He does a really, really, really great job. Spencer is so impressed and so proud. He knows that Brendon's a performer, that he used to do open mic nights and stuff, but he sees it in the way he speaks in front of the Council -- voice louder and clearer, head held straight, confidence in every word and action. 

At the end of his speech, the dry, emotion-less council members rattle their papers a bit. They glance at each other. Finally, a woman with square glasses that make her look kind of like a turtle leans forward and says into her microphone, "Mr. Urie, we're not opposed to the creation of a dog park in the location that your organization proposes, but that lot is zoned commercial."

Brendon's face starts to fall. 

"As such," the woman continues, "We'll have to refer your inquiry to the bi-monthly Zoning Board meeting."

Brendon closes his eyes and Spencer's heart aches for him, and the city council moves on to the next topic of import: whether to permit businesses in the downtown business zone to advertise with signs on the sidewalk.

Brendon walks slowly back to where Spencer is sitting. Spencer gets up and wraps his arms around him. 

"You did so great," he says. "Let's not stay for the rest."

They go back to Spencer's house and go out in the back yard with Bogart and drink beer. Bogart snaps at the dandelions and the sunshine is warm.

"This was a great first step," Spencer says, trying to sound confident. "We've got plenty of time to plan for that zoning board meeting now."

Brendon sighs. "You know that's just bullshit. They just didn't want to deal with me."

"So we'll make them deal with you," Spencer says. "I promise. We'll get that dog park built."

It's a bummer, but they don't give up. And otherwise, things are really good. Spencer doesn't say it out loud, but he thinks he's falling in love with Brendon. They just fit together really comfortably, better than he can remember fitting with Haley, who always made him a little nervous. He never feels like he has to impress Brendon. Spencer gets a promotion at work, too. He's going to be working in a more strategic position now, helping decide policy, and he's pretty excited. It means staying later, and a little less time with Brendon, but Brendon's excited for him too.

He tells his mom about Brendon, and Ryan (he emailed Ryan not long after he met Brendon, and they've renewed their friendship through a chain of not too sporadic emails). He tells his sisters, and when he takes a week's vacation in July to go visit his family in Vegas, he buys Brendon a ticket and insists he come too. 

Spencer's family loves Brendon of course, and his mom tells him she's never seen him happier.

They go to the zoning meeting, and make their case to the board, which then has to take another two months to consider it. That's bullshit, and Brendon's SO MAD afterward, just fuming. Spencer's never seem him this angry, so he just stays quiet while Brendon stomps around his house and rants. But not long after one of the local newspapers publishes a small article about ASPS and the online petition gets a bunch more signatures after that. People want to donate for real, so they have to get set up as a non profit -- luckily Spencer's work people help with that.

Brendon and Spencer also both volunteer at the dog shelter every other weekend now. It's September -- they've been together six months, which just blows Spencer's mind -- and Brendon is sad because he knows that fewer dogs get adopted in the fall and winter. People don't spend as much time outside, don't want to take care of them.

There's this one dog he's particularly enamored of. She's a pit-bull mix, a puppy, maybe four months old. Her ears aren't docked and her tail wasn't cut and she has a white patch under one eye, and on her breast, and her toes are white. Brendon calls her Lulu and when he thinks Spencer's not listening he says things like, "I wish I could take you home with me, girly," and "Oh, you are just the most precious baby ever." 

Spencer knows Brendon wouldn't get approved to adopt, because he's already got Bogart and his living situation is so shitty.

Spencer gets an idea. Or, an idea he's sort of had for a while starts to grow. 

One night when they're on the couch with Bogart curled up next to them, Spencer says, "Maybe you should move in here."

Brendon goes still. "What?"

Spencer swallows. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. I know we haven't talked about it, but you're here a lot, and there's more room for Bogart, and I was just thinking maybe ..."

"If you're really sure," Brendon says. "Spencer, are you sure?" 

Spencer kisses him in response. He is totally sure.

Brendon moves in a few weeks later. They cart his stuff over in Spencer's car, leaving most of his furniture for the next roommate. Spencer's already cleared out space in his closet, and they went to Ikea to get Brendon a dresser the week before. While Brendon's unpacking, Spencer says he's got to go run an errand.

Brendon is holding three identical socks in his hand. He looks up. "Sure," he says. "I think we need milk too, while you're out."

Spencer's heart goes all warm and fuzzy.

When Spencer gets back, Brendon's in the living room. 

"All done?" he asks.

"I gave up," Brendon says. He makes a sad face. "There are still clothes all over your floor."

Spencer ignores the little burr of annoyance, because honesty, there are more important things in life than worrying about clothes on the floor. 

"I got you a surprise," he tells Brendon. "Come on."

He leads Brendon into the back yard, and there's Lulu. She wags her tail so hard when she sees Brendon. He drops to his knees and she climbs up and kisses his face. Bogart feels left out, apparently, so he starts kissing Brendon too.

Spencer sits down beside his boyfriend and their dogs.

"Oh my god, Spencer," Brendon says, still with both dogs in his arms. "You adopted her?"

"No," Spencer says. "We did."

He doesn't even mind that Brendon tastes like dog when he kisses him.

And another nine months later, Brendon and Spencer and Lulu and Bogart are standing at the gate of the new dog park. The original empty lot never worked out, but a truly awesome local property developer donated some land, and a ton of people stepped up to make this a reality. In the end a lot of them did more work even than Brendon and Spencer, and those are the people who are talking to the press and cutting the ribbon and shaking hands. 

Spencer takes Brendon's hand and leans over to whisper in his ear. "I'm really glad I didn't blow you off that day you asked me to sign the petition," he says.

Brendon grins. "I'm really glad too. I'd probably still be standing there collecting signatures now if you had."

"I love you," Spencer says, and he squeezes Brendon's hand.

"Love you too," Brendon says.

Then the gates open and they take the dogs inside and let them run.


End file.
